The Epic
by AdrianPetersonFan113
Summary: Just an epilogue right now. The port city of Nasmia is under siege, and cannot hold out. Can the local heros hope to stop their enemy? Anything you can find on UESPwiki, I don't own. However, my fictitous charaters, locations, and creatures are mine.


Hello people! This is my "official" story. I have put a lot of sweat and tears into this, yes, both have been attributed for me to erect this mediocre story. Maybe, not so many tears (I haven't cried in more then 3 years. And yes, I'm counting.). I just added this part for you to know me better. True, you could just skip this segment all together, but it's always fun reading stuff when you know a little about the guy, right?

I'm not the person you would expect to find on this sight, contributing to this sight. In all reality, I am a jock; just getting along in school, passing PE with flying colors, but most other classes, not so much. I actually do not make fun of people, as I am a representative of the U.S. Army, the U.S. Marine Corps, and my Tae Kwon Do instructor. I rarely play video games, but I can play Oblivion with the difficulty slider all the way to the right (Oh yeah).

I'm going to give you a list of songs for you to buy either off itunes or out of some local CD shop. Either way, it's highly advised, as they are all great songs, and it gives you a taste of how fun it was coming up with these characters and story line.

Song to listen to while reading this chapter:

Bat Country, Avenged Sevenfold, City of Evil

**Special Note!!!!!** I would really like to dedicate this entire story to the city of Fargo, who is going through a major disaster. The sister cities of Fargo/Moorhead are on the great plains of west Minnesota/ east North Dakota. The Red River runs through the center of the two cities, and it has an infamous history of flooding. This year will live in infamy to the residents of the FM area, as the Red River has flooded once again, and worse then ever. In all reality, this chapter would have been done about two weeks ago, but sandbagging has taken up much of my few hours I have to myself. The Red River is at an historic 45 feet high, a height unheard of. Twenty foot high earthen dikes are pushed back as the unmerciful water looks for the slightest opening to take advantage of. Two people have died so far, and one home of an eighty year old couple has burnt down due to an electrical circuit, and the local authorities could do nothing to help as it was surround by deep water. The Head of the Department of Defense strongly advises an evacuation of the entire city of Fargo Moorhead. While I was there sandbagging, a mile south of us, a major dike broke, allowing the freezing cold water to spill upon a defenseless home. The next thing we saw was several bus loads of National Guardsmen and a couple huge trucks full of sandbags sped by through the flooded streets that we were desperately trying to block. Now, time for the good news. They built a huge, secondary dike within just minutes. The Flood Effort directors had to turn people away as the community had immediately responded to do whatever they could to help. And, ironically, the cold weather is actually helping! It's slowing the river down, but the wind isn't complimenting anything. So, if any of you can help in any way, do so. If you don't live anywhere near, just pray for us!

* * *

Another explosion outside shook the castle's interior, dust falling from the high up ceiling down to the extravagantly rugged stone floor. "Don't worry son, be back in just a skoosh." the captain of the Nasmian city guard patted his Imperial boy on his rag haired head, offering a sheepish smile that even the child could see through. The boy's mother stepped foreword into the dull light, tears rolling down her pale cheeks from blood red eyes. The captain's expression became more realistic and seemed to suit the current situation then his prior. To behold his enchanting wife's face so pale; her delicate blonde hair clumped together by sweat, her cheeks so pale, and her eyes so red. It wanted to make him stay to comfort her and fulfill her needs and make her feel safe. However, in the back of his mind and in his heart he knew this would be the last time he would have the honor of beholding her enchanting presence. "I'll be back, I promise." the captain locked eyes with his Nordic wife, slowly moving a strand of hair off her face with an armored finger. The cold Elven steel felt so warm against her skin… So warm. She could not contain herself. Her knees began to buckle and she collapsed, face buried in her own trembling hands.

The aged captain's immediate reaction was to kneel down next to his tormented wife and comfort her as best he possibly could, but his reactions were cut short by his second lieutenant. "We don't have all day, captain, our boys are sitting ducks out there!" the stout Imperial urged his superior as he motioned toward the two huge, wooden doors that were the castles main gates.

The Two Specters appeared in the Nasmian castle's main courtyard. It was a large goose egg shaped area, the gate on one end and the castle interior gate on the other. In its center stood the statue of the Nerevarine, the famed Dunmer hero who was born in this city of western Tamriel. Several tall trees grew in several small gardens surrounded by lush flowers, which were well kept and often tended to. However, nobody was noting the intricacy. A platoon of 45 legionnaires stood in formation, each one of them so nervous he was sick. They were given the command from their second lieutenant to stay at ease until he returned. A very cocky move from such a green horn, each nervous soldier thought. A butter bar telling them to stand outside without engaging while they slaughtered their friends and families. Mutiny was on every soldier's mind, though none committed.

Therefore, they all stood there, each man rocking back and forth on his heels while nervously grinding his teeth, awaiting their C.O.'s orders. In the meanwhile, they would have to stand at ease while their brothers in arms fought and died to defend their glorious home of Nasmia from the ruthless enemy of nightmares.

* * *

"A beautiful repeat of Kvatch, just waiting to happen!" Welycrohk proclaimed, holding his box cut head up high with eagerness. The Nord's grey eyes could already envision the slaughter to come; each soldier lying on the ground, moaning while holding a fatal wound as his best friends would fight and die to save his life in a pathetic attempt of heroism that was doomed to fail.

"Or so you think." Thrashnow protested in a surprisingly bland tone. Welycrohk turned on her with a mix of rage and shock. It was forbidden for both of the Specters to comment on a single event, and they had agreed that each event would be hosted by the Specter that was more suited. The young Wood Elf simply held up her hands in resignation. "The fate of this city is unknown to the both of us. Septim okays my comments as well as yours." Thrashnow explained in an attempt to cool the angered Nord down.

"Fair enough," the Nord accepted with a doubtful shrug "though I see no hope for this city." the gray man pointed out as he towered over the Elf. As if to prove his point, a Hoverer could be heard crashing into something, resulting in blood curdling screams, and causing the entire platoon to cringe.

The Two Specters appeared on top of the tallest tower of Castle Nasmia, overlooking billowing smoke clouds rising from broken and crumbling buildings as legionnaires rushed through narrow streets littered with bodies and debris as they desperately sought civilians that needed evacuation.

In the center of town, a large explosion of fire sent a concussive blast throughout the burning city, sending a few soldiers to their knees as they stood in formation below. "All hope is gone!" Welycrohk screamed in a demonic voice as he stood on the railing of the stone structure, holding his arms out as if to embrace the sheer power.

* * *

"Give me a sit rep, lieutenant." captain Dennis Malion requested as the two officers entered the great hall, a large and extravagantly lavish room with multiple benches, small gardens, and exotic pottery. It truly was one of the more impressive halls in Cyrodiil, as the Count had spent more on keeping his visitors happy then he had spent on his own quarters. The two did not care much about the creature comforts though; they were there for the extremely map of the city which took up an entire wall.

"We've got four other platoons in open combat. First is here trying to evac as many civilians as they can," the second lieutenant first pointed to the main residential area with an umbrella that was lying next to a fancy wooden bench, "Fiery Bastards and the Fighting Fifth are here, trying to come into contact with the Mage's and Fighter's guilds and are getting spanked in the process," the fiery young Redguard announced as he next pointed to the main town center, which was a thriving market place that surrounded a well, "and we still can't find Polonivy's bunch." the young Redguard sighed as each bit of news seamed to get worse.

"We're going to relieve our boys at the well, Fighters and Mages are going to assist the First, and the Bastards and the Fifth are going to look for Polonivy as we hold are positions. Once everyone's secure, we push these bastards out our city the way they came in." Malion immediately replied, barely even thinking about what he was going to do. He was a great commander due to the years of experience he had gained leading his Legionnaires on many bandit raids throughout the Gold Coast. He had been a highly decorated officer, and was offered the position of Captain of the Nasmian guard as a settle down job. Though, this wasn't exactly what he thought his superiors meant by a "dull yet exciting at times job".

"Captain Dennis Malion, a proven soldier and commander. And you said something about no hope?" Thrashnow peered over the edge of the tower at the small figures in the distance as they emerged rather hastily from the main castle interior. As soon as the wrinkled yet surely old man came into the soldiers' view, he began barking orders to "Ready weapons, pat your friend on the back, and pray to the Nine you don't die!" he screamed as he drew a giant, Elven claymore from the huge sheath on his back. "Then follow me!"

Welycrohk shot the young Bosmer a baffled scowl. "You truly think that these halfwit mortals have the slightest chance of victory?"

"There is always hope when you defend your own." Thrashnow pointed out as she blankly stared out over the burning city.

"Obviously wasn't enough for me." the ancient Nord recalled with a grin as he turned his back to the young woman.

"Maybe you just weren't good enough." Thrashnow smiled, showing her almost nonexistent sense of humor. Welycrohk just replied with another confused look. He turned his head back to the horrid landscape, however, something caught his eye in the process. He immediately whipped around with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"What?" the Wood Elf asked the old Nord with a suspicious look, turning to meet his gaze. She saw it too. Her jaw immediately began quivering and instinctively took a few steps back. Something was coming out of the ocean, only, it was just more ocean.

The entire ground itself began to rumble as the giant wave grew closer, shocking the already bewildered soldiers. They had no chance or clue of knowing, they were far too preoccupied with their current struggle, which is just what was expected.

The Two Observers watched, without making a sound, as the wave scaled up in size. First about twenty feet, then in the next few seconds, about twenty-five, thirty-two, forty-six, until it finally became almost unbelievably tall. So much so, that it was more than twice the size of the tower the Two Specters stood upon. As the wave came into view of the troops in the streets, it was already large enough to block out the early day sun.

Then, the top of the wall of water came crashing downward upon the hapless city of Nasmia.

* * *

Hoped you liked the epilogue! This is an extremely vivid chapter that takes place in the distant future, or is it distant? Keep on checking back on the story to find out! And, any _**REVIEWS**_ will be extremely appreciated!!!!

Now, to rap it up.

3 things to make you feel better about yourself.

1 - Always try harder, even if you're the best.

2 - Life isn't supposed to be easy; God made sure it wasn't.

3 - You'll look better if you try harder, but not too hard.

3 things to do to make you a happier, more sadistic person.

1 - Stroll right past that little old lady struggling to cross the street as the large semi that is swerving all over the road is charging at you both.

2 - Use the F bomb as a substitute when you can't think of the correct word.

3 - Go in dirty. The only fight you lose is the one you fight clean in.

Quote:

Gunnery Sergeant Dan Daly, 4 June Marines at Belleu Daly told a Marine Historian, "What I really yelled was: For Christ's sake, men-COME ON!Do you want to live forever?"Dan Daly served with Marine Fourth Brigade in Sergeant Dan Daley was awarded two Medals of Honor and a lot of other awards/medals.

Joke:

A blonde goes ice fishing. She buys the auger, a rod, and some jigs. She goes out on the ice, drills her hole, and waits for a while. "There's no fish there." she hears a distant voice tell her. The beleaguered blonde moves her gear, and moves to a new spot, drilling another hole. After a couple dozen more minutes, she hears the same, distant voice. "There's no fish there, either." So, once again, she moves her equipment to another location, and makes herself at home again. After about another half hour, she hears the voice again. "There's still not going to be any fish." "Who are you?" she asks, thinking she hears God advising her as on where to fish at. "The owner of the ice rink."

Youtube clip to look up:

Super Mario Brothers Frustration (this is my favorite, and the best clip on Youtube!)


End file.
